We have teaching practicum four days a week. Once or twice out of those days, I sit shaking in a small classroom, watching my students (most of whom are 3 times my age) file in and take their seats, chatting in Spanish, Cantonese or Mandarin. Most of the time we overshoot our students’ speaking level, leaving us grasping for any loose threads that they might be able to understand. We teachers are scared and unsure; our students are good-natured and forgiving. Usually, our feeble attempts leave our students more confused than when they first started, and we cry tears of frustration, anxiety and hilarity when it’s all over.
But sometimes, you see a light turn on. All of a sudden, it crosses over from being “memory work” to "understanding." It clicks, and it is an amazing thing to watch the brain work right before your eyes. One beginner student, whom I had taught the lesson before, was having trouble coming up with the right vocab word for the sentence her teacher wanted her to complete. From the back of the room, I watched her shake her head in frustrated concentration. All of a sudden, without even looking at her face I could see her eyes light up. She bounced out of her seat a little and chirped “Car!”, which was one of the words I had taught her. Taken aback, her teacher stammered out, “Well, yes, you do drive a car. But do you remember 'bicycle,' what I just taught you?” Our alum observer looked over at me with a huge grin, his eyes laughing. He knew, too--she got it. It’s quite an incredible thing for a teacher to experience, having their students actually learn something from them.
Life turns beautiful when moments like these happen—when a truth is discovered, when you finally connect it all together.
Thursday 30 July 2009
Wednesday 22 July 2009
Has it been a month yet?
The days here in Pasadena go by slowly. This is not to say that I am miserably lonely--quite the opposite. Rather, so much is packed into each day that, when evening comes, you have to remind yourself that it has not been a week since you arrived--only 24 hours. I am learning how to do this thing that they call "teaching." I am not quite sure how I got myself into all this; surely no one explained it to me thoroughly before I got on that first plane. Suddenly I find myself worrying about how I will explain the differences between pair, pare and pear. I fall asleep at night running through word games and 7 different ways to go about listening techniques.
I am also learning what I am going to be up against in the Czech. Here are the facts: Population: 10.3 million. Atheism: 60%. Prostitutes: numbering anywhere from 10,000 to 30,000. Government: corrupt and constantly changing. (Officially: something called "bi-cambral parliamentary democracy. I know the definition of perhaps one of those words.)
Still, I am not a numbers person. The percentages are interesting, but this is also how stereotypes and generalizations are made. What hits home for me are the personal stories from the alum teachers. I am sure I will have many hard stories of my own before the year is up, but the stories of 12-year-old girls standing along the roadside "for sale" and the young woman who ended up in a brothel after accepting Christ only a year ago are hard to handle, even as I still sit here in care-free California (air-conditioned, of course).
We read an article in one of my sessions on how religion is viewed in the Czech. It is not surprising to read about the enormous decline; all of Europe has followed a similar route over the centuries. But what makes you turn your head is this line: "The Czechs say they're the most atheist country in Europe, and they say it with some pride... This is how Western civilization may look in 50 years, because people here believe they live a full life without any religion." And later: "There is a sense of emptiness, but not despair." Emptiness, but not despair? The sentence was written to give off a positive point, but I see the opposite. If one is despairing, one is searching for another answer, because life as it is now is unbearable. But if one is merely empty, there is nothing. This state is worse than dead--it is neither dead nor alive. There is no feeling, no searching, no hope; so many Czechs have grown so used to this 'despair' that it is normal and expected, and so it becomes accepted.
These are facts from witnesses, but I hope to God that this is not so. It is good to learn what to expect, while we are there, but I do not want to expect this. I am not sure I could bear to look into the eyes of a young national to find nothing there--not even despair.
I am also learning what I am going to be up against in the Czech. Here are the facts: Population: 10.3 million. Atheism: 60%. Prostitutes: numbering anywhere from 10,000 to 30,000. Government: corrupt and constantly changing. (Officially: something called "bi-cambral parliamentary democracy. I know the definition of perhaps one of those words.)
Still, I am not a numbers person. The percentages are interesting, but this is also how stereotypes and generalizations are made. What hits home for me are the personal stories from the alum teachers. I am sure I will have many hard stories of my own before the year is up, but the stories of 12-year-old girls standing along the roadside "for sale" and the young woman who ended up in a brothel after accepting Christ only a year ago are hard to handle, even as I still sit here in care-free California (air-conditioned, of course).
We read an article in one of my sessions on how religion is viewed in the Czech. It is not surprising to read about the enormous decline; all of Europe has followed a similar route over the centuries. But what makes you turn your head is this line: "The Czechs say they're the most atheist country in Europe, and they say it with some pride... This is how Western civilization may look in 50 years, because people here believe they live a full life without any religion." And later: "There is a sense of emptiness, but not despair." Emptiness, but not despair? The sentence was written to give off a positive point, but I see the opposite. If one is despairing, one is searching for another answer, because life as it is now is unbearable. But if one is merely empty, there is nothing. This state is worse than dead--it is neither dead nor alive. There is no feeling, no searching, no hope; so many Czechs have grown so used to this 'despair' that it is normal and expected, and so it becomes accepted.
These are facts from witnesses, but I hope to God that this is not so. It is good to learn what to expect, while we are there, but I do not want to expect this. I am not sure I could bear to look into the eyes of a young national to find nothing there--not even despair.
Thursday 16 July 2009
Blessed in order to bless
The above quote by Annie Dillard sums up perfectly my thoughts on life in general, as does this quote by Jack Kerouac: "So shut up, live, travel, adventure, bless and don't be sorry." But in order to bless, one must be blessed--must be poured into in order to pour out. In my 21 short years--and even more so in these past six months--I have learned what it is to be blessed. You--whether you are family, a friend, or a sort of distant acquaintance--have been the one to teach me this. But we all of us are merely transporters, if you think about it. Check points, in which the blessings pass through from one person to the next. They are not intended as a sort of "the buck stops here" mentality. You are blessed in order to bless. This is what makes the world go 'round; not money or fame or power, don't you think? The world does not work on a basis of how much you or I deserve something; it is a grace-filled, hope-filled, faith-filled sort of sensibility that is our only hope of ever making it through alright. These past few months of preparation for the Czech Republic have been put in fast-forward mode for me, and suddenly I find myself believing I am ready for this. Whether this proves true or not--only time shall tell! No matter how you have supported me in this new adventure, I feel I owe you a true and honest account of how your support has affected me. I am interested in giving you a real and personal view into what life is like in the Czech Republic through the eyes of a young American who really has no idea what to expect. Thank you, thank you for what you have done in order to bring me to this new place in life. Buh ti zehnej--God bless.
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